


Popping

by measuringtape



Series: Teen Wolf weight gain universe [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Button Popping, Established Relationship, Fat - Freeform, Fat fetish, Feeding Kink, M/M, Weight Gain, fat!stiles, feedee!stiles, feeder!derek, feederism, like over 300 pounds fat, obesity, stiles is fat, tight clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 13:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16517660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/measuringtape/pseuds/measuringtape
Summary: He adores the way the thin white material clings to ever fleshy roll around his waist, loves the feeling of peeling away the constricting denim from his expanded pale torso, examining the hash angry red lines from the very tight squeeze.





	Popping

Stiles wore the same thing every day to work. Black dress jeans and a white button up shirt. His desk job as a 911 operator didn’t require much more so it was the same style jeans and the same style shirt, day in and day out for the last two years.

The only problem was – in the last two years he had near enough doubled his weight, gaining an impressive 141 pounds to date, his weight ballooning to 308 pounds and increasing. The consequence of this rapid gain was, among trivial back pain and shallow breaths here and there from carrying twice the man he used to be, was that the simple work uniform had been replaced numerous times.

The first replacement came when he had gained 20 pounds and had come the second he felt it getting snug.

However, nowadays, he waits.                                                               

He _adores_ the way the thin white material clings to ever fleshy roll around his waist, loves the feeling of peeling away the constricting denim from his expanded pale torso, examining the hash angry red lines from the _very_ tight squeeze. He gets a thrill deep in his spine, a hot, burning sensation buried deep until the chub of his stomach whenever he watches Derek’s eyes light up as he feeds him more and more so that he grows out of them.

So he waits until he can’t possibly go another day in those clothes without risking public indecency.

And this time it’s no different either.

He arrives home to the smell of pasta and cheese and bread and cookies and cake, all baked and ready. He knows the cupboards are almost as tightly packed as he is; barely struggling to contain all the rich calorie treats for tonight’s endeavours.

“Derek,” he calls as he kicks of his shoes by the door.

Derek in question emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a chocolate stained tea towel. Derek practically growls when he sees Stiles stood at the door; looks him up and down before focusing on the ever present bump underneath his thinning shirt. He takes hold of him in his arms, pressing his own iron flat stomach to the fleshy mound his boyfriend sports.

“That shirt isn’t lasting any longer,” he growls into Stiles’ ear, “I’ve been planning all day – we’re popping you out of that thing tonight.”

Stiles giggles, allowing Derek to dominate him as he leads him to the kitchen where mass amounts of food are laid out on the table for Stiles’ pleasure. His stomach whines at the sight.

“Barely eaten all day,” he lies, “baby’s hungry. Needs filling.”

Derek grins and lightly kisses Stiles’ cheek before pushing him down into the chain and presenting him with the first dish.

It’s packed high with creamy mac and cheese, crispy bacon bits lying in the dozens on the top. Derek loads up a forkful and presses it to Stiles’ lips, his spare hand going to the pouch of Stiles’ stomach, slowly rubbing up and down as Stiles’ lets out a pleasant moan at the first bite.

“Oh god, Derek,” Stiles mumbles through cheese as more and more forkfuls come his way. Derek is not a slow feeder, instead he likes to stuff his feedee without hesitation. He loves to see the glazing red of Stiles’ cheeks as he puffs through each bite.

“Used two whole packets of bacon, just for you. So much cheese and calories – you won’t know what’s hitting you.” The cheese stretches between the dish and fork as he presents Stiles with more of it and more of it.

It’s when they’re coming to the end of that first dish that Stile’s globe of a stomach really starts protesting. It whines and gurgles as it tries to digest the family of five meal. It’s itchy as the skin pulls, stretching to accommodate the swell, as Stiles’ groans and scraps his nails along the top of it, where it shelves his glorious breasts.

“Don’t think it-it’ll t-take much tonight,” he hiccups through his sentence, slowly subbing the swelling ball of fat that is his belly. Derek puts down the fork and grabs his beautiful stomach in both hands. It’s still jiggly, not quite full enough to harden yet, but the white cotton shirt is increasingly thinning – the buttons straining and showing parts of Stiles’ pale pudge.

“You’re doing so well, Stiles, so well. God – I just want to see that thing pop right out of here. I want to see you blush and stutter when the buttons fly across the room.” He jiggled the belly and patted it before handing Stiles an entire pizza sized garlic bread.

“You’re going to eat all of that,” he told him, standing up from the chair, “you’ve got until I finish icing this cake or I won’t give you a belly rub.”

“You got it, Captain,” Stiles retorts as he takes the first bite. It’s dripping with grease, the garlic butter pooling in ever present dip. His belly is becoming heavy as he chews so one hand rests underneath in, supporting and rubbing as he reaches for the second one. He can’t even see his chucky arm – it’s swallowed by the abundance of flesh wrapping around his middle.

His stomach whines as he reaches for his third slice. His breath is struggled and he feels constricted but he powers through, running his hand up and down his underlayer of fat. It’s when he finally reaches his second to last slice that he feels his stomach begin hardening, finally hardening with all the food he’s shoved in there. Derek is finishing the last corner of the cake so Stiles sandwiches the last two slices and rolls them like a fruit roll before shoving them into his mouth in two bites. He struggles to breathe through the large mouthfuls but with his hands now fully free he can attend to the growing swell.

He can tell it’s gotten larger as he palms it – he knows he’s getting bloated with each bite he’s taken. His stomach gargles and he moans, jabbing the heels of his palms into each hardened bit. The buttons strain as he takes heavy puffed breathes and he knows it’s sheer luck that they haven’t popped yet. But as Derek places the caramel chocolate cake in front of him, he knows this is what will do it.

Derek bypasses the chair and instead gets on his knees in front of Stiles, rubbing  at the stomach. It feels hot, even through the shirt.

“Does it hurt?” He asks Stiles.

“My jeans do.” Stiles responds, one hand wedging its’ way between the tight denim and his body mass on his lower hips. “But it’s good. God the marks are going to be so angry tonight.” He knows his eyes are sparkling just thinking about what he’ll look like in the mirror.

“Let’s get you out of this suffocating shirt.” Derek proposes. He starts filling up massive spoonfuls of cake and shoves it into Stiles’ expecting mouth

God – it’s to die for. Moist dark chocolate dripping in rich, orgasmic caramel sauce. A burning sensation tingles all over his body as he moans, throwing his head back, his hands still rubbing up and down the expanded middle

“You like that.” Derek states. It isn’t even a question. He knows Stiles is in heavy right now. Stiles’ looks into Derek’s eyes as he feeds him more, his stomach groaning and hardening with each bite.

They start alternating between bites of cake and fizzing cola, the bubbles inflating his rock hard stomach to push the mass out more and more. It’s when they’re halfway through the cake and down an entire litre bottle that it happens.

Stiles’ back starts aching and as he chews his current large mouthful, he stretches his arms back to rub at is expanded fleshy backside.

And that’s when the sweet _riiiiiiip! Riiiiiiiiiip! Pop!_ Sounds through the room and Stiles’ suddenly feels a cool breeze on his burning hot stomach as it surges forward like a wild beast, the bottom three buttons of his shirt no longer trapping.

Derek groans before laughing at the beautiful sight in front of him. The stomach is swollen and massive, covering half of Stiles’ lap like a pet cat. Stiles is groaning and running his hands over it in every direction, taking inventory in just how big he has become.

“God, look at you.” There’s lust in Derek’s eyes and Stiles pictures the moment they get to take this to the bedroom. “You look so tight and round – looks like you’re seven months pregnant all filled with my pups.”

Derek himself looks positively glowing as he palms at the stomach, rubbing the belly as he always does. He knows it’s heavy and somewhat painful for Stiles, but they can’t help themselves when they get into it.

His belly is hot and heavy in Derek’s hands as he rubs at it whilst Stiles stifles burbs and groans. “God you’re massive, Stiles. You’re so fucking fat it’s beautiful.”

“I’d bend down to kiss you but I'm too big.” Stiles tells him and Derek laughs, his eyes glistening as he looks up at his beautifully obese boyfriend.


End file.
